


World's End (Oneshot)

by sootforbrains



Category: Sleepy Boys Inc.
Genre: sbi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25660975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootforbrains/pseuds/sootforbrains
Summary: Wilbur has been away.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 327





	World's End (Oneshot)

**Author's Note:**

> more of a conceptual thing, meant to help me vent. interpret as you like :)

_"I hope that when the world comes to an end, I can breathe a sigh of relief, because there will be so much to look forward to."_

Wilbur felt the floor shift beneath his feet.

Perhaps it was the lingering effects of being on the train for far too long; the stubborn remnants of motion lodging themselves into his bones like toys, little trinkets of dizzying velocity with which he had to wrestle. Or perhaps it was something different altogether. 

Perhaps the shaking of the roof above him was not, in fact, a figment of his imagination.

Perhaps the world really was collapsing around him.

Beside him, on the couch, Techno sat, legs crossed, spine rigid. His eyes were trained forward, frozen, locked on something only he could see. 

On the floor before them, Tommy lay with his back against Wilbur's legs, sleep a welcome visitor in his psyche. His breaths were even, pure and peaceful. Wilbur would prefer it if he could stay that way forever. For who wants to awaken to the end of the world?

Phil was in the other room. Doing what, Wilbur didn't know.

There was a great tremor. Wilbur tensed. 

In his peripheral vision, the window glittered with the city's eyes, red and white and bursting with their multicolored glory. It winked at him sullenly, something that seemed to grasp desperately at reassurance--but oh, Wilbur was beyond it, he was beyond the urge to feel comfort. He was beyond the need to take Tommy's shoulder and pull the boy away from the oncoming danger, beyond that flinging notion to grab Techno's sword and use it to fend off the demons which plagued them so. He was beyond all of it, existing now in a place of solitude and peace.

Peace.

It was strange, peace. How it could exist within such disarray, such chaos.

Across the room, a door opened. Phil appeared, an apparition amongst the crumbling walls. 

His eyes met Wilbur's. They were filled with resolve.

"What of it?" Wilbur asked, the words peeling themselves from his lips almost reluctantly.

Slowly, Phil shook his head. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"You know what I mean." Wilbur's desperation was growing. His hand twitched toward Tommy protectively. Beside him, Techno shifted, lost in his own world of demise.

Phil bit his lip, reached up to tug at his hat. There was something swimming behind his eyes, but Wilbur couldn't place it. "Will, I'm not sure you know what you're saying to me."

Wilbur's throat began to constrict. He shook his head furiously. "You're not listening, Phil. He..." He glanced down at Tommy, still taken by sleep. Still blissful and unaware.

"You're losing it." Phil stepped forward, closer. The floor gave a frightening shiver. "Buddy, you're...." He sighed, eyes flickering to Techno. To Tommy. Back to Wilbur. "You're dreaming up destruction when there's nothing but life around you."

"But the floors...." Wilbur tensed, expecting the room to quiver. But it remained solid, still, and silent. 

Phil gave a knowing smile. "It's not all bad, you know."

And at his feet, Tommy began to shift, drawing himself up and out of unconsciousness like a worm from mud. Beside him, Techno's gaze broke, and he glanced at Wilbur, lips peeling back into a friendly smile.

"Where have you been?" Concern was etched tightly within Techno's expression, along with the glee lodged deep within his dark eyes. Wilbur's heart gave a fretful lurch.

"I've been here," he said, but even he knew it wasn't true.

"Will?" 

Wilbur glanced down. On the floor, Tommy faced him, bandaged knees drawn fretfully to his chest, eyes dancing in their delight.

"Tommy."

Tommy brought his features forward into that horrible, mischievous grin that had been absent for so very long. "You're finally awake."

And outside, the city's eyes--its reds and whites and flashes of taillights and skyscraper jewelry--seemed to multiply. It beckoned to Wilbur, seemed to whisper its promises once again.

And for the first time, Wilbur listened and didn't hear the decay it seemed to offer him--he heard its future bubbling softly near the brim of chance, and he felt it offer its hand to him, calling to him.

"Will."

Wilbur looked back; Tommy was cross-legged on the floor. Phil had joined him, and Techno was moving off of the couch to insert himself in their circle. Before him, Tommy had spread a pile of cards, and was in the process of dealing them out. Red and white against the pale of his hands, against the chestnut floor--a floor which would not suffer a tremor again for a long, long time.

"You playing?" Tommy's smile was broad. Phil's was small, but dancing with sincerity. Techno's was grim, but fully there.

Wilbur returned it, tossing it back like a frisbee. And the walls rebuilt themselves; the apartment, once again, felt less like a bunker and more like a home. 

"Of course I'm playing." He lowered himself onto the floor across from Tommy. "Deal me in."


End file.
